Stimmell is a public school history teacher, one who immerses himself in his work. In his spare time -- in addition to being a dedicated hunter, fisherman and trapper -- he practices the craft and art of Native Americans, and that of others who immigrated to America.

Making and using items from history gives him a perspective that can't be learned from books.

In addition to making his squirrel rifle, he made a flint knife to field dress his kill. He often cooks wild game in a small cabin he built on his land in a manner reminiscent of cooking done by early Americans.

Following the progress of making his hunting implements, I developed an urge to watch him put them to use. Last week, I got the opportunity to do just that.

Occasional drizzle earlier in the day softened the leaves, allowing us to sneak quietly through the woods, stopping frequently for about 15 minutes at a time.

Each time we stopped, we separated wide enough to watch over different areas.

After a few stops, I had not seen a squirrel. Stimmell had seen one, but it didn't stop long enough to take a shot.

Since it didn't look good for seeing several squirrels, I started to follow Stimmell to be watching just in case he got an opportunity to shoot his new rifle.

That opportunity came soon enough.

I had not followed him for more than a minute when he stopped, crouched and whispered, "Black squirrel."

I stayed where I was, watching his hunt unfold.

Since I had not yet seen the squirrel, I could only guess where it was by the direction Stimmell looked.

While his eyes were diverted to look where he was stepping, I saw the squirrel cross to our right.

When Stimmell resumed walking, it seemed clear that he had not seen the squirrel when I did, so I whispered a couple of times until he turned to look at me.

Then, I used hand signals to motion where I had seen the squirrel, and he started moving in that direction.

It was obvious he saw the squirrel again when Stimmell stopped and crouched, drawing his muzzleloader slowly toward his shoulder.

The next few seconds kept me as tense as if I had been the one with the rifle. When he pulled the rifle fully to his shoulder and peered along the sights, my enthusiasm rose even higher.

Then, there was the crack of the .36 caliber muzzleloader followed by gray smoke rushing out of the muzzle, then billowing like a sideways bomb blast.

I didn't even consider that he hit the squirrel.

To hit a moving target smaller than a tennis ball at what appeared to be a considerable distance would be too much to expect.

It didn't matter.

I had been treated to the show I wanted to watch.

Then again, maybe the excitement was not over.

Stimmell had taken several steps forward so I could not see him well. I did hear the sounds of metal against metal as Stimmell drew out the ram rod. That, and the dull thump to set the lead ball, were obvious sounds of reloading.

Finished with that, Stimmell moved toward the squirrel again. It looked like he was searching for something on the ground.

By that time, I had started walking toward him.

Before I reached him, Stimmell turned and held up a squirrel for me to see.

It was not, as he had first thought, nor as I thought I had seen, a black squirrel. It was a gray squirrel.

That hardly mattered.

For me, the hunt had reached a second climax.

It had not even entered my thoughts that Stimmell had hit the squirrel off-hand with a muzzleloader at that distance, which we later determined to be about 45 yards.

Completing the history lesson, Stimmell drew his hand-made flint knife and used it to dress the squirrel as efficiently as anyone could do with a modern steel blade.

It is nice enough to watch something like this on a television program. But it is even better seeing it happen, or better still, actually doing it.

Stimmell will be teaching the history of America from a hands-on viewpoint.

MIKE BLEECH can be reached by e-mail at mikeb73@verizon.net. Read more of his columns at nwpaoutdoors.com.